


Appreciated

by TracedViolet



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracedViolet/pseuds/TracedViolet
Summary: Grif and Simmons have a talk while Simmons tries to swallow an anxiety attack.





	Appreciated

Dexter Grif slammed the front door as he entered the 2 bedroom apartment he shared with his geeky roommate, Dick Simmons. Despite not having much in common, they had grown a decent friendship around living together because what better way to get to know a person than to end up doing their laundry or buying their groceries. Grif didn't do either of those things too much. His duties included cooking and staying the hell away from Simmons when he was working on his computer junk.

booooooooring...

The lazy brunet dumped his backpack on the floor and wandered into the kitchen to retrieve a bowl of potato chips and a soda. He had worked pretty hard at the gas station that day and was pretty sure he deserved a snack. Just thinking about work made him tired and a little bit angry. Working sucked but at least he got to leave and go do whatever he wanted afterwards. Unfortunately, tonight was a Friday night and none of the people he usually hung around with wanted to go anywhere. He was stuck playing video games in his dumb apartment because nobody bothered to call him or answer his text messages.

Some friends they are... assholes....

As Grif started up the Xbox and settled into the couch, the jingling of keys and the twisting of the doorknob caught his attention. He rolled his eyes and yelled at the door. "It’s open Kissass!" it sounded mean, but they had both grown accustomed to the nicknames. 

Simmons was Kissass because he sucked up to their landlord who was only referred to as "Sarge". The military man admired Simmons’s loyalty and responsibility so sometimes if they were short on money, the Dutch Irishman could weasel their way out of a couple hundred bucks just by talking. That was one of the things Grif envied about his roommate. His ability to manipulate people and have them believe it because of his perfect demeanor. 

The door opened and a tall, lanky red-head entered the room carrying a pile or computer parts and his own backpack. "The insult was unnecessary, Fatass." he stated.  
"The insult was unnecessary, Fatass!" The shorter man mocked and was quickly knocked on the head. "Ow!" His nickname was Fatass because of his weight although it wasn't all that bad. he was a little on the heavy side but he certainly ate enough to feed a small army of him, Simmons, Sarge, and maybe some squirrely gay guy who may or may not have lived in the middle of a box canyon somewhere.

Simmons dropped the wires and circuit boards in his room, grabbed a soda from the fridge, and then plopped down next to Grif on the couch knocking him out of his daydream. The brunet gave the other man a puzzled look. "What? Not locking yourself in your room tonight?"

Simmons shrugged. He usually did end up staying in his room all night, tinkering with electronics and trying to get his school work done. College wasn't exactly easy even for a brainiac like him and it sucked a lot of money out of his bank account. Doubling up with a part time job at a computer repair shop left him little free time but tonight, he could relax.

"I don't have anything else to do either." Grif grumbled taking off into a campaign mission, viciously hitting the buttons on his controller. "My friends fucking ditched me."

"Maybe they're just busy?" Simmons countered. He always seemed to be the devil’s advocate with the brunet's accusations and general negative perceptions of life itself. It was strange how they always ended up in deep conversations about philosophy and life, how much they ended up getting to know about each other just being around. 

Simmons knew about Grif’s past. How he used to have a serious drinking problem that ended him in the hospital more times than he'd ever care to admit. How he used to study psychology but never finished school because of said drinking problem.

Grif also knew about Simmons past. How he was tormented all through high school. Being beaten senseless and walking home with broken bones and a shattered mind, how he had once ended up in a mental institution because of a few scrapes on his arms and a questionable note.

"They’re not busy. They posted pictures." Grif grabbed a tank and swore as he was immediately killed and respawned 2 levels back. He chugged half of his soda and ate a few chips.

"Y’know your friends are kind of douche bags."

"They’re not my friends."

Simmons shook his head. It baffled him that anyone could hang around a group of people and never talk to them about anything important. Fake friends is what they were and the redhead just couldn't understand it. He would rather be alone, all by himself, than have to deal with people who didn't really care about him. "How do you stick with those people for so long and never know who they are? Do they even know who you are?" he threw his arms up for dramatic effect. “Am I honestly the only person who knows who you are?!"

Grif threw a couple more chips into his mouth, barely chewing before responding. It used to bug Simmons when he did that but the Dutch Irishman had grown used to it by this point. “No but that doesn't matter. You know me because I live with you so I got my secret life out first and not a lot of people know that about me. I just don't want them judging me or nothing."

"Why does it matter what other people think? If they're really your friends they'll accept you even if you're a little weird. Don’t worry about it." The redhead had to admit he did sound a bit like those self-help books advertised on daytime talk shows and it was slightly hypocritical to be giving out advice he didn't even follow himself but it seem like the right thing to say. It wasn't Simmons fault that he had an anxiety disorder that ran his life but at least he was trying. Grif never seemed to try at all.

"Yeah but I'm not gonna run around handing out pieces of my soul to people. If I don't tell them who I really am then they can't hurt me when they leave." the words were quiet and began to sound more serious the longer Grif talked. The conversation was turning from friendly advice to a therapy session and neither of them was really in the mood for it. "Everyone does eventually. Nothing lasts forever." the bitterness of the words was rather disheartening. The brunet didn't really seem to believe in anything except his own misfortune. 

It was obvious that he had trust issues, deep rooted, unfixable trust issues, and Simmons didn't exactly understand why he wanted to try and fix them so bad. Maybe because it hurt too much to see a person so badly abused in life, that they purposely made you hate them, right off the bat, so that you never got a chance to see who they really are.

"Sure," The Dutch Irishman agreed "maybe a friendship won’t last forever. People change. It happens." he turned to look at the other man with the same seriousness in his tone. "But wouldn't you rather spend time with somebody who really knew you? Somebody you could share your problems with and know they wouldn't judge you for it because they understood?"

Grif laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, I don't believe in that. It’s a nice dream but it’s not reality." the caustic smile turned into an irritated frown. "And don't take me for some self-loathing sob story ok? I think very highly of myself!" there was a pause as he thought of what to say, and whether he wanted to say it at all. "But sometimes it gets lonely up here on this soap box... and eventually I'll just annoy the shit out of you.... I'm fucking clingy...." he mumbled the last bit to himself, almost as if he didn't want the other man to hear.

Simmons pondered that for a moment. Clingy or just overly inquisitive? If Grif thought the Dutch Irishman cared if he asked too many questions he was sorely mistaken. The red head liked answering question about himself and giving his opinion. If only because no one ever cared to ask. 

"It’s reality for me." Simmons murmured. That was his part to hide. "How do you know that you'll annoy me with your problems? I get pissed about you drinking milk out of the carton but how could I be mad at you for something that’s not your fault? If someone was going to make fun of you for something that isn't your fault, they're probably not your friends."

"Yeah and look at all the friends I have!" Grif spat angrily. "I have fucking issues ok? It’s Friday night and I'm sitting at home talking to my nerdy ass roommate!" he flipped his hand in the taller man’s direction with disgust barely even looking up.

"What does it matter that I'm you roommate?!" Simmons retorted then quieted for moment as it sunk in. He sighed and stood up, grabbing his soda off the table in finality of leaving. "You know.... you're one of the best friends I've ever had.....i enjoy talking to you and even if you left right now... I'd be pretty upset but I'd appreciate the time we had together.... because it meant something... and I'm a different person for having known you..." 

Grif didn't respond. He only went back to playing video games with an apathetic expression. The red-head started walking back down the hallway towards his room but there was an odd feeling in his chest, like he wasn't sure what to do with himself anymore. He didn't exactly have any plans either but what just happened wasn't on his agenda. He figured they'd play video games together and maybe go order some take out. Nothing out of the ordinary but now this.

Simmons reached his room and locked the door, flopping onto the bed.

Fuck him. He’s an idiot who doesn't know how much he really has.

Maybe it was the argument or all the stress the redhead always seemed to put himself under. Maybe it was a combination of a lot of different things he wasn't even consciously aware of but his throat began to burn with restraint, the same way it used to burn when he wanted to say something but never did. Tears filled the Dutch Irishman's eyes because what Simmons didn't say in that stupid fight was that Grif was the only real friend he'd ever had and he just wasn't in the right frame of mind to take the realization that the lazy asshole didn't feel the same way.

Stupid fucking tears! 

Simmons hated when he cried. He didn't cry during sad movies or when people died but he cried when things got too hard and life got a little bit out of control. He got anxiety attacks and that’s when he cried.

That’s probably what it was. A trigged anxiety attack by a dumb fight with his best friend. The Dutch Irishman's heart felt it was going to jump out of his chest and his lungs felt like they weren't getting any oxygen. He knew nothing was really wrong but his body wanted to go into fight or flight. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm down because all he was doing was sitting in his room.

/It’s just an anxiety attack. You’re just having an anxiety attack./

He repeated it over and over again in his head while scrubbing away the tears but it just didn't help the feeling that he was going to die.

Meanwhile, there was an awful lot of silence going on in the living room, giving the pessimistic brunet some time to think about the whole conversation. Despite his efforts to push it out of his head, it slowly began to sink in further and further. This game he was playing suddenly wasn’t fun anymore.

Grif sighed in frustration. He was not a fan of serious conversations that involved feelings and such, let alone confrontation, but with Simmons it was different and he felt guilty about what he had said.   
Turning off the game, he got up, and tossed the controller aside with a huff, making his way down the hall towards the red head’s room. He paused at the door, rubbing one arm. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

"Hey Simmons?" he knocked quietly on the door. There was a pause but no answer. "Hey, come on man..." Still no answer, a tinge of worry sprang a red flag in the back of his mind. He helped himself to the door knob. "Hey......" His heart sank. There crying silently was what he knew was his only friend too. “Aww man..." His tone was much softer as he made his way over to Simmons bed. Sitting down, he glanced at his crying roommate with a look that said “should I do something?” but the Dutch Irishman just shook his head, and made a swirly motion with his finger.

/Oh….Anxiety attack… and it’s probably my fault too…. /

The brunet turned back forward, rubbing the back of his head. "Look, I’m sorry. I didn't mean it so please don’t cry." His hands dropped to his lap and eyes to the floor. "You're right you know. They aren't really my friends, but it’s something to do you know? Hang out with bunch of people. Party.” He said the last word like he was a little ashamed of himself. “I just... I get lonely sometimes and you’re usually busy with your computer shit and school and stuff and I guess... I just don’t wanna bother you... I figured you were just busy too..." Glancing back over toward his one true friend the sincerity showed on his face, he was heartbroken he'd hurt his friend so badly. "Please? You’re my best friend.... I... I don’t... You’re my only real friend."

Grif’s eyes wandered to the window, trying to stave off emotion as best he could. How could he fix this if he was hurting too? "I... I didn't mean to hurt you so can we just go back to being friends again? I... couldn't stand it if you ended up hating me too." 

Simmons nodded and smiled despite his trouble breathing but he seemed to be returning to normal. Listening to Grif talk had made him forget he was panicking and just made him think of what a great friend he had. 

Grif smiled back but his countenance dropped, shoulders slouching. "I know I’m mean and closed off sometimes ... and resentful and all that other stuff, but I shouldn't take it out on you. " As much as he didn't want to he had to get his point across, he timidly turned back to face Simmons. "I would really have nothing if I lost you and.... I know it would be my own fault. Im sorry...."  
The red head took a deep breath and finally spoke. “It’s okay… I understand….”

Grif laughed and lay back on the bed, his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with an odd expression. As if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something or not. “You uh…. You don’t really know how much you actually mean to me… I get so much… pent up anger and… pain and I think I could hold one conversation with you for years…. The truth is…. You get me better than anyone has in a long time…. And I appreciate your trying to bring me up when I’m down and listening to me ramble on about nothing… so um… thanks for that….”

Simmons smiled down at the brunet. “You’re welcome…”

“I swear to god though, if you tell that to anyone, I will never forgive you.”

**Author's Note:**

> based on a highschool RP. Simmons is a little OOC in my opinion but i wrote it so long ago theres no point in trying to change it.


End file.
